tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34061070057993328662024-03-13T09:03:08.251+05:30amaranthI dedicate this block to poetry though it might feature topics related to other forms of literature, culture, social issues and spirituality.
You can also post your poems on the comments section or send them to me through e-mail. People of all ages,communities and nationalities are welcome to this blog.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-5345405490386067392009-04-04T17:46:00.002+05:302009-04-04T17:54:02.402+05:30The Ailing OneThe old woman shifts in her bed<br />The curtains fly, the birds twitter.<br /><br />Sun had never wished to trade,<br />Gold spill on every pauper's feet.<br /><br />The old woman cries<br />Pain ties her to the bedsheets<br />The son's care,<br />The granddaughter's touch<br />Effaced by fate's wipe.<br /><br />Death in its usual outcast's ways,<br />Her tears track moments suffered<br />In wait of the cloaked nomad.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-30747767286898996242008-09-20T18:50:00.002+05:302008-09-20T18:59:03.299+05:30Nitin's Kite(part 3)<br /><br />The clouds were a herd of huge grey elephants trampling down the sky, making loud noises. The thunder crashed as two or three of them struck their tusks together. As he was looking at the sky he fell headlong into the water. Now no one could save his kite from total destruction. After a few minutes a grown up picked up the half crying, half coughing wet Nitin in his arms. This was his elder brother. Seeing a queer shape under Nitin's shirt he took it out and threw it into the water. Nitin was brought home in another few minutes.<br />The next day was the Viswakarma puja. Due to continuous rainfall there was not a single kite in the sky much to the relief of Nitin who now had nothing to envy. He sat gladly at the door of his house catching fish from the still flooded field by dipping his towel.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-67157210497175181792008-09-13T15:35:00.004+05:302008-09-13T16:07:01.180+05:30Part-2<br /><br />He ran with all his might. Tiny dried leaves and mud got stuck to his feet. His face and hands were all wet. The wind troubled him by making his unruly hair fall on his face. The rain drew wet patterns on his clothes. <br /> At the edge of the field the clump of mango trees started. He had spent many happy hours there in the summer. But now in the rain he did not like it at all. The leaves were like rough licking tongues, the wet stems of the creepers seemed like slimy snakes. The narrow continuous stretch of sky above the clump was like a long grey snake spitting out venom from every inch of its body. The drops pierced Nitin. <br /> As if to hide the absent minded patterns on Nitin's shirt the rain started painting his entire shirt with its wetness.<br /> As the clump came to an end he got a hazy view of the old temple. He ran towards it only to find it closed. There was not even a little shade near it.<br />When he came to the last field it was flooded. His hut was a small island on the other side of it. Swimming through the water would take him faster across it.The kite was already wet but he wanted to save it as much as he could. So he waded through the flooded field. <br /> It seemed to him as though the field would never end. It was the very old field where he had played so many times with other village boys. But now it looked like a sea of murky grey water. He could not see the hut anymore. He did not even know whether he was in the right direction.<br /> The water was rising. At first it was up to his thighs, now it touched the tail of the kite, that was at his waist. Something slimy touched his feet. It was a snake from the pond. As the pond had got mixed with the flood water snakes were moving everywhere. With anger, disgust and sorrow Nitin moved on.<br />(The rest of the story will appear next week)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-83889662364468353862008-09-07T11:31:00.002+05:302008-09-07T11:59:40.199+05:30This is a children's story I wrote when I was 15 years old.<br /><br />NITIN'S KITE (part 1)<br /><br /><br />Nitin was returning from the village school . The sky looked as though it had just come from under a cart that had crossed muddy grey paths. It worried him not just because his home was faraway but because his home was faraway and he had a kite in his hand. His slate and slate pencil were pushed into a tiny bag stitched from various pieces of cloth by his mother. The kite was too large to fit in it and even if it did the cloth bag would not be able to protect it from rain.<br />Now for the kite. It had the depiction of a black lion with golden mane on it. He got it from an older boy in his school. Not that he gave it to Nitin out of generosity. Nitin had to give away his entire tiffin in exchange.<br />So Nitin was hungry. Still he was happy. He thought about flying the kite at Viswakarma Puja which was on the next day. He could not participate in the fight of kites since he had only one kite and he did not want to lose it. Besides he was too young to have the skill to cut the strings of others' kites without cutting his own. He would just let the kite go higher and higher towards the autumnal cumulus clouds. <br />He walked as fast as he could to reach his house before the rains started.<br />But it had to happen. As he was walking through a field and had still to cross the mango tree clump, the old temple and another field big drops started falling from the sky. He quickly put the kite inside his clothes. His figured must have appeared strange with the rhombus object kept across his thin body. In no time the rain started falling even more heavily. He hoped that the old temple would be open where he could take shelter.<br />(to be continued next week)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-45472165451252021862008-08-30T16:17:00.003+05:302008-08-30T16:25:19.972+05:30ReactionsA cold wind passed,<br />My expanding thoughts-<br />Solidifying water <br />Cracked my skull.<br /><br />Thorns prick,<br />Penetrate<br />Deeper<br />And deeper.<br />They crowd<br />On all sides.<br /><br />The fire<br />Sadistic<br />Licks my flesh.<br /><br />The waves push me to mock<br />As I sink slowly.<br /><br />I struggle to take another breathe,<br />Can I....<br /><br />(This poem was written by me many years ago but I recently made some changes to it.)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-35507942977414762952008-08-24T15:10:00.002+05:302008-08-24T15:17:31.178+05:30THE WRONG SUSPECT"I've never heard of the gang"<br />He screamed as pins pricked<br />His finger tips.<br />Shutting his eyes so hard<br />The eyeballs might've been pushed<br />To the back of his brain,<br />But how could he sedate his nerves?<br /><br />They left him, locked<br />To bring back monstrous <br />Relics from Cretaceous times.<br /><br />His nerves just stopped squirming<br />Like the eel fished out of the sea<br />Released to a puddle,<br />Soon to resume the death pain.<br /><br />He cupped his hands,<br />Boring his fingers into the face<br />That resembled the criminal's<br />His neat life shredded apart,<br />He attires himself in chill<br />To bring back escaping vapours.<br /><br />( This poem is from my book 'One Hundred Poems' published by Writers Workshop. Next Sunday I will post one of my unpublished works)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-42465087207333920212008-08-16T15:27:00.003+05:302008-08-24T15:09:40.377+05:30EVENTS<br /><br /> They gave you a silver bowl<br /> They forgot you have<br /> No food to keep in it.<br /> <br /> They gave you a necklace<br /> They didn't notice<br /> Your collarbone would subdue it.<br /><br /> You've got chandelier<br /> But where's the ceiling?<br /><br /> They gave you gold pitchers<br /> But the river has dried,<br /> The wells lidded and taps<br /> Releasing blood.<br /><br /> Talking of blood,<br /> New fuel when the earth<br /> Fails to leak the old one?<br /><br /> ( another of my poems from my book of poetry <em>One Hundred Poems</em> published by Writers Workshop.)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-46171428144154202572008-07-13T15:08:00.004+05:302008-07-13T15:18:41.264+05:30THE PAINTINGSerpentine shapes-<br /> Are they what they seem<br /> Or they're streets or rivers<br /> Or winding life of mine?<br /><br /> Dark stretching curves<br /> Are they clouds or stylised<br /> Hair, or shadow remnants<br /> Of my most heart felt dreams?<br /><br /> Multihued dots<br /> Sprinkled to add colours?<br /> Or buds or little beads<br /> Perhaps, specks of my hopes.<br /><br /> Artist,<br /> Through papers, net, journals<br /> I know you, famous one<br /> How is it you know me?<br /><br /><br />(Another poem from my book of poetry One Hundred Poems published by Writers Workshop)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-49889103638430650942008-05-25T15:47:00.002+05:302008-05-25T15:52:19.973+05:30ASSIMILATIONVillagers carry grains and straw,<br /> Golden oriole among green leaves,<br /> A stir in water of the pond -<br /> In sky's colour for a moment<br /> Marigold's many petal layers.<br /><br /> All mine.<br /><br /> Deceived by dividing scratches<br /> Raw red from many caustic blades<br /> crisscrossing over th' Absolute.<br /><br /> Segragated ones now belong<br /> To me for I belong to them.<br /><br /> ( This poem is from my book One Hundred Poems)Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-4981862140333070202008-02-01T17:56:00.000+05:302008-02-01T18:03:08.246+05:30Graceful MightElephant in water,<br /> Its raised curved trunk<br /> A lagoon, sending out<br /> Fountain from its tip -<br /> Actually relieving<br /> Congestion in musth gland.<br /><br /> Ground shakes, stars will descend<br /> On earth, trees lean away<br /> To make space, actually<br /> Elephant has just walked.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-6043642801743010542008-01-20T18:04:00.000+05:302008-01-20T18:08:02.678+05:30SpringFew leaves at first<br /> On a narrow branch tip -<br /> A green crest on slender<br /> Brown bird neck.<br /> Snow reborn as bud,<br /> Haste to come back<br /> Among leaves on a leave.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-6388384118495783622007-12-26T19:10:00.000+05:302007-12-26T19:15:00.540+05:30THE MUGGERResting mugger<br /> Cuddling a rock,<br /> Slightly curved tail<br /> With upright scales -<br /> Lower jaw of<br /> A shark's mouth.<br /><br /> Sunlight to bathe,<br /> Lightning feast.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-85599718552205664372007-12-14T20:17:00.000+05:302007-12-14T20:20:07.914+05:30WinterSloping snow land<br /> Down to ice stream<br /> Like gentle slope<br /> Of a white forhead,<br /> Sun in ice crack<br /> An eye of it.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-64156410617795916692007-10-17T20:03:00.000+05:302007-10-17T20:16:33.353+05:30Photos<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRb9vaLEvi3ajSL_wZP2-wTy9E8HAVoO6Vzi5QAKIqgIQr0B0jVKoUiRZV7DV6l7G2ujBEcXwM_S_fNtdCvsRK1cpMqi5Nd8Q7NIf2tFcljs2m92UL0vArQuCkbIXXyPY3b4Runzoy2o/s1600-h/scan0010.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRb9vaLEvi3ajSL_wZP2-wTy9E8HAVoO6Vzi5QAKIqgIQr0B0jVKoUiRZV7DV6l7G2ujBEcXwM_S_fNtdCvsRK1cpMqi5Nd8Q7NIf2tFcljs2m92UL0vArQuCkbIXXyPY3b4Runzoy2o/s320/scan0010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122315542834917762" /></a><br />A gulmohar tree in my neighborhood.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtIHZ83c_6x3hG4HgeJbnitgF_k1aXwuikMXfR_I8eu8eXroKk8H6aRARaoO145RTcxkTys_TirBlmVn-30omCw9pCtrvIgGxI01Sbpt7c_h8wYG5etSPcRIM9v2LwsnTCRuZBIxzx2E/s1600-h/scan0011.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtIHZ83c_6x3hG4HgeJbnitgF_k1aXwuikMXfR_I8eu8eXroKk8H6aRARaoO145RTcxkTys_TirBlmVn-30omCw9pCtrvIgGxI01Sbpt7c_h8wYG5etSPcRIM9v2LwsnTCRuZBIxzx2E/s320/scan0011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122314902884790642" /></a><br />A rock pool in the beach of Chandipur, Orissa, India.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZh3qTB8qWLuAHJMj9uul8oaIxuGWxql9KzEgkm7F3neQWJnPDSXoP2zAgzN4NgpHVy0IeUWWWg_y_0pEo1YqFA2_p4HpPQQ1QY_fIoY_fsN7x7uGAzXYE2eCoW9xCvSlO8QrOH8XiXi8/s1600-h/scan0004.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZh3qTB8qWLuAHJMj9uul8oaIxuGWxql9KzEgkm7F3neQWJnPDSXoP2zAgzN4NgpHVy0IeUWWWg_y_0pEo1YqFA2_p4HpPQQ1QY_fIoY_fsN7x7uGAzXYE2eCoW9xCvSlO8QrOH8XiXi8/s320/scan0004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122314426143420770" /></a><br />Himalayan foothill.<br /><br />These photographs have been taken by me ( all the other photographs in this site have been downloaded from the net). I will be away from home for work and I do not know when I will be able to make the next post at this blog. In the meantime enjoy the present posts.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-29068642266018048192007-10-15T06:28:00.000+05:302007-10-15T06:57:06.265+05:30RAIN ON THE WATER<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIrSbtS2Mnk2SYAEaVRivNgLCA3VeEZHcibs5tI8dfxmKvJww3RNtdRLvvDKeKKb8Qzfj13Fcp9txTdDDAaZXYL4lMliLq4gDaA1zjZ0e-tnaRPQL6NS6SAoI7ZeCmCDnp_YkPIIv9TI/s1600-h/rain-falling-in-puddle-~-pr90170.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIrSbtS2Mnk2SYAEaVRivNgLCA3VeEZHcibs5tI8dfxmKvJww3RNtdRLvvDKeKKb8Qzfj13Fcp9txTdDDAaZXYL4lMliLq4gDaA1zjZ0e-tnaRPQL6NS6SAoI7ZeCmCDnp_YkPIIv9TI/s320/rain-falling-in-puddle-~-pr90170.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121368794603925810" /></a><br /><br /><br />Rain lines, close, slanting<br />Upon the pond<br />Like tail bones of fish.<br />They prick the water<br />Ovals surround dots,<br />Breaking, pairs of curves<br />Like ear rims they form.<br /><br />Who's prancing on roof<br />The fishes wonder,<br />Who's stained its mirror<br />Guesses peeping sky.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-89276182129545887322007-10-08T09:46:00.000+05:302007-10-18T15:01:29.823+05:30A POEM<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4CC6bB3bPLF5s5R0z7dVLVfVZbXiMF09seKB-EgoaF3zHoz_vfRuSSls9VGTOgxIdnQYQHVMUJp3GxeCyC5n8VT3ex6692bMzfFffuR8VZ9PzD-9DCtsrZmFPKuTA7atLEDv4XeXXlE/s1600-h/_40397989_butterfly_ap245.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4CC6bB3bPLF5s5R0z7dVLVfVZbXiMF09seKB-EgoaF3zHoz_vfRuSSls9VGTOgxIdnQYQHVMUJp3GxeCyC5n8VT3ex6692bMzfFffuR8VZ9PzD-9DCtsrZmFPKuTA7atLEDv4XeXXlE/s320/_40397989_butterfly_ap245.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118816737255674834" /></a><br /><br />BUTTERFLY<br /><br />The butterfly<br />Sitting pretty<br />On flower top<br />Both wings raised<br />Colourful crest<br />On a bird's head.<br />softly it flies<br />To buds, flowers<br />Carrying colours<br />To more colours<br />Gently caress<br />Gentler petals<br />On each visit<br />On each bright day.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-31491527075590338462007-10-01T09:18:00.000+05:302007-10-01T09:25:13.342+05:30I've never seen a ribbon lake but I've written this poem from imagination<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2igmJqbAZ-upPIrtBLI0H_cIzginFOAViT0BeuNkBt42SSmdkTmmz27yXt62mjRd2CcASUi6K1c9vBG3F3Fv-sGHbNgscC2SgzRGWYRDn_YcPCcGNkrreZrdEnEKU5NCXtWFlToU4E4/s1600-h/118136_ribbon_lake.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2igmJqbAZ-upPIrtBLI0H_cIzginFOAViT0BeuNkBt42SSmdkTmmz27yXt62mjRd2CcASUi6K1c9vBG3F3Fv-sGHbNgscC2SgzRGWYRDn_YcPCcGNkrreZrdEnEKU5NCXtWFlToU4E4/s320/118136_ribbon_lake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116210634283702290" /></a><br /><br />RIBBON LAKE<br /><br />From the corrie lakes<br />Narrow streams flow down<br />Into ribbon lake<br />Like many mothers<br />Bound by umbilical<br />Cords to single child.<br /><br />Chillness of glaciers<br />Its water speaks of,<br />Grey blue its colour,<br />Just a green shadow<br />On its bed and banks.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com60tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-45156700518597371082007-09-24T09:34:00.000+05:302007-09-24T09:40:33.715+05:30A Poem<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIgb-TC34WxhQ-vliRoVwAtg3t0i5kj7xDnRS_iiEXkjgmWsTOiHkCgItqraLm-5fNBFLpWGEVzjgcGvsyCOsGAuUZa2AMO6a7JG2X5WQODN6ZkB6d5Hc7i_TL9mIRpnog5dnNAqWGuo/s1600-h/forest+storm.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIgb-TC34WxhQ-vliRoVwAtg3t0i5kj7xDnRS_iiEXkjgmWsTOiHkCgItqraLm-5fNBFLpWGEVzjgcGvsyCOsGAuUZa2AMO6a7JG2X5WQODN6ZkB6d5Hc7i_TL9mIRpnog5dnNAqWGuo/s320/forest+storm.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113617088217241602" /></a><br /><br />FOREST STORM<br /><br />Leaves shake, water rise<br />Once sleepy mirror<br />The pond - turbulent!<br />The swimming serpent's<br />Slithering slim self -<br />Shifting enhanced waves.<br /><br />Last gulp of water<br />Last deer quickly takes,<br />Hurries deep in green<br />Along with its mates.<br />Proud tiger raises<br />His furious face<br />Who has roared louder<br />In his dwelling place?Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-60462582207418974012007-09-17T09:55:00.000+05:302007-09-18T21:18:21.412+05:30I poem I wrote after coming back from a trip to the Sunderbans.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUHsWLNMPEfoWkwGdqh-96sftwc7uN5qxqQfXXFJFQpEAyZRCYmBXAOaSZC2g5uGwKAf0DVcEF-oZR2ZdXijxc4qOERlAlORYRbobhpIPt4Xl2RQQpTjCgAJ2GTsXO0GlOcPHLlMbMJI/s1600-h/river.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUHsWLNMPEfoWkwGdqh-96sftwc7uN5qxqQfXXFJFQpEAyZRCYmBXAOaSZC2g5uGwKAf0DVcEF-oZR2ZdXijxc4qOERlAlORYRbobhpIPt4Xl2RQQpTjCgAJ2GTsXO0GlOcPHLlMbMJI/s320/river.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111025333392527090" /></a><br />Sunderbans is the name given to the mangrove forests of the largest delta region of the world. It is the home of the royal Bengal tigers. It is partly in Bangladesh and partly in India.<br /><br />A RIVER THROUGH FOREST ISLANDS<br /><br />At far island edge, bit<br />Of the bending river<br />Visible - slight crest<br />Of redwinged bush lark's head ,<br />Or seed's curved radicle.<br /><br />Narrower gets river<br />Quivering forms of trees<br />Darkening deep water<br />Through the shady layers<br />Muffled voices, not yet<br />The royal stripes.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-89773831182492848922007-09-10T11:36:00.001+05:302007-09-10T11:42:34.123+05:30A poem I wrote during autumn , last year<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqLsKOra0OaHmLU6os8RlS3gypbw1d6wPu9PDk5lFvHzM15xVip0tdqstDetrKWYA5wwQwqyWRDzw5lNRlpf3A5A8Gynl7EQ4cGIPEjYBvKuS92qeLINvVZkDhM8v9JkkXakSkU84H3Y/s1600-h/pond.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqLsKOra0OaHmLU6os8RlS3gypbw1d6wPu9PDk5lFvHzM15xVip0tdqstDetrKWYA5wwQwqyWRDzw5lNRlpf3A5A8Gynl7EQ4cGIPEjYBvKuS92qeLINvVZkDhM8v9JkkXakSkU84H3Y/s320/pond.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108453164188995618" /></a><br /><br />BITS OF AUTUMN<br /><br />Clouds wispy edged -<br />Silk emanating<br />From a puffed silkworm.<br />The stream has no haste<br />It flows at leisure.<br /><br />Lake at peace with self ,<br />For all land creatures<br />The windows opened <br />To world within it.<br /><br />Dews glad to be out<br />For long in the green<br />Before being called<br />Back to sun bright home.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-32521565400409927732007-09-03T13:44:00.000+05:302007-09-08T10:03:13.290+05:30A poem I wrote in summer (2005), a time when we look forward to rain<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wEoxf1T_uGDzKqpzXjD6WnQpQ7pJq0WIA96E5HpeJThMUKnk6gYuogOCDVRidXd-hJh1EojzjDaOji6SvLLN5cKKAIzw4RgZDSxD0XXZWMe5ApEKkH1-U2hNSuj9IQCk3Xmy3b5MYSc/s1600-h/clouds.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wEoxf1T_uGDzKqpzXjD6WnQpQ7pJq0WIA96E5HpeJThMUKnk6gYuogOCDVRidXd-hJh1EojzjDaOji6SvLLN5cKKAIzw4RgZDSxD0XXZWMe5ApEKkH1-U2hNSuj9IQCk3Xmy3b5MYSc/s320/clouds.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105888501777600530" /></a><br /> <br /> MONSOON<br /><br /> Nimbo-stratus clouds<br /> Spread across the sky<br /> Like wing of a bird<br /> Each feather of it -<br /> The clouds' each layer.<br /><br /> Softens soil, from seeds<br /> Spring saplings, forests<br /> Back in green, mountain<br /> Rivers regain roar.<br /><br /> Barrier free breathe,<br /> Earth in strange new lights.<br /> <br /> Semicircular<br /> Rainbow's seven strips -<br /> Orbits of planet<br /> Partial to eyes.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-56596922986588975682007-09-03T13:20:00.000+05:302007-09-08T10:04:47.475+05:30Nature and CultureOn last Friday I went to visit an exhibition of nature and wildlife photography at The Academy Of Fine Arts. Well known Bengali actor Sabyasachi Chakraborty was among the photographers whose work were being displayed. The exhibition ends today. I also saw some very innovative paintings and sculptures that were being displayed in the adjoining halls.<br />Yesterday I attended a cultural program held at Sishir Mancha in memory of late Bengali poet Birendra Chattopadhya. The function started with a speech and recitation of his poems. This was followed by poets reading out their own poems in Bengali. Shaoli Mitra Recited poems of Rabindranath Tagore. It was the first time I got the opportunity to hear her recitation and I was enthralled. The event ended with songs sung by Pratul Mukhopadhya who had composed their tunes himself. Some of the songs were based on poet Birendra Chattopadhya's poetry. They were meaningful and unique.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-89931662503413587612007-08-27T08:59:00.001+05:302007-08-27T09:24:35.828+05:30A poem I wrote on August, 2005<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqkaAchLMSiofQ2PNbPWwUNIOeoEzg-hmKJppQpZSJ34bnwKwwdhgOJ7aXBdlMuVc5lFy3Jdawm99FWh4Rcu_kaOoqqkUK9ZOZvdBGKxyanOukHPAFe2e_W6dDF2Rv7KwDVbKSczc8_U/s1600-h/flying+birds.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqkaAchLMSiofQ2PNbPWwUNIOeoEzg-hmKJppQpZSJ34bnwKwwdhgOJ7aXBdlMuVc5lFy3Jdawm99FWh4Rcu_kaOoqqkUK9ZOZvdBGKxyanOukHPAFe2e_W6dDF2Rv7KwDVbKSczc8_U/s320/flying+birds.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103217878228045826" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.acclaimimages.com"></a><br /><br />A FLOCK OF BIRDS<br /><br />Evening not faraway,<br />Long legged birds at water<br />Edge, in haste with wings stretched<br />They bend necks, in moments<br />Two leafed saplings have sprung<br />Upon river bank place.<br /><br />Quickly flapping their wings<br />Masses of them soar high,<br />White currents in the sky<br />Can the sea up be met?<br />Wondering, river looks.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-4004614021964361732007-08-23T11:12:00.000+05:302007-08-24T09:50:39.641+05:30The word amaranthAmaranth means a flower which never dries. My father's friend asked for the Bengali word for amaranth. My mother seached in the dictionary and the Bengali word happens to be 'parijat'.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3406107005799332866.post-27356472202514207922007-08-20T11:36:00.000+05:302007-08-20T11:40:15.184+05:30A poem I wrote during last year's rainy season<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjoTfgcl1FgsQKKNJpDeMUmumBXKVlnr8mtU5Loljo9_5N4mr9EeLZlgQnnlwlAug9LrU33IHBrBXmjbKoFbXibRB-9vKKZ23Ml-TG0UxeaXZ9EXKcgaBSpDoP1ax-LrNzhdmCGZ3iO8/s1600-h/rain_little%5B1%5D.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjoTfgcl1FgsQKKNJpDeMUmumBXKVlnr8mtU5Loljo9_5N4mr9EeLZlgQnnlwlAug9LrU33IHBrBXmjbKoFbXibRB-9vKKZ23Ml-TG0UxeaXZ9EXKcgaBSpDoP1ax-LrNzhdmCGZ3iO8/s320/rain_little%5B1%5D.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100660238088179698" /></a><br /><br /> RAIN IN THE COUNTRYSIDE<br /> <br /> Grass rise to merge with long<br /> Lines of rain - stalagmites<br /> Of remote cloud dark cave.<br /><br /> Marigold dear to pond<br /> Water as hyacinth,<br /> Birds in forced rest from flight.Lahari Chatterjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03975197940531552506noreply@blogger.com1